Really Short Christmas Stories Novels & Stories

She reckoned that if Alex was there with him, he would definitely pick the same book. The story revolved around a stuffed rabbit sewn from velveteen. It was given as a Christmas present to a small boy. The boy plays with his other new presents and forgets the velveteen rabbit for a time. These presents are modern and mechanical, and they snub the old-fashioned velveteen rabbit. The wisest and oldest toy in the nursery, the Skin Horse, which was owned by the boy's uncle, tells the rabbit about toys magically becoming real due to love from children. The rabbit is awed by this idea, however, his chances of achieving this wish are slight.

I thought I was beginning to understand what my mom was always saying about it being better to give than receive. “Cadence! Your pajamas are upstairs in your room,” my mom said, as if she’d just realized what my sister was wearing. “Oh, that’s okay,” Cadence protested. Perhaps she didn’t want to wear her Christmas jammies in front of her coworker. “Now, come on Cadence. You know the rules. Christmas jammies for presents!” my mom insisted, and I thought back to that movie, A Christmas Story, where Ralphie has to put on those rabbit pajamas. I knew Cadence’s were the same as mine, though, red and green with reindeer heads. They weren’t so bad.

"Never say never. Who knows…" Gosh, she was truly hopeless! Not wanting to listen to her nonsense anymore, I ended the call. Later events proved I shouldn't have done that. At least then I could have prepared myself for what was to come. … After the Christmas break, Louis and I both returned to work. The first morning rush after the holidays always resulted in unusually congested traffic. To make matters worse, I seemed to get caught at every red light possible. The trip that usually took no more than half an hour ended up taking me almost 50 minutes.

Chapter 1 The bookstore smelled like fresh coffee and old paper, the way it always did on event nights. Elena Reyes stood at the front of the packed reading room, microphone in hand, watching twenty kids and their parents lean forward as she finished the last chapter of the bedtime story. Laughter rippled through the crowd. A little girl in the front row clapped so hard her pigtails bounced. Then her phone buzzed on the podium. Once. Twice. Three times. She ignored it until the applause died down. Only then did she glance at the screen.

I hated his guts for betraying me, but I couldn't find it in me to throw those letters away, so I kept them. We had this ritual where we'd write a letter to Santa asking for a gift. Of course we knew Santa wasn't real, but it was our thing. We'd sneak off when the other wasn't looking and check each other's letters and surprise each other with whatever we'd asked for. “I was right, Mommy, it is him,” Lucien said, looking from the photograph in his hand and back up to Ryan, before stopping at the last step as he stared at the picture and then at Ryan, who was now staring back at Lucien. He rushed to stand in front of Ryan, tilting his head back as he looked at the tall man, before raising his

I learned to be thankful and quiet. That acceptance made me hate Christmas. Love songs made my skin crawl. The lights under our tree looked like glass eyes. The ribbons on the presents were traps. Every year, the house tuned itself to cheer and I pretended to enjoy it. The twenty-fifth became the night when a new kind of cold touched my bones. It was the day the truth had crawled out at me like an animal. It was the day I had learned how much of my life had been decided by other hands.

Mark shooed him away from the back room and chased him toward where the elves were still handing out toys, having the time of their lives. “Guys, guys!” Jake told his friends. “You’re never going to believe this, but I saw Ms. Jones kissing Santa Claus!” Merryweather “Well, that worked out marvelously,” Merryweather said to Flora. “I agree. I was a little worried there for a bit,” Flora told her. “But Fauna did a marvelous job.” “Fauna did a marvelous job?” Merryweather asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you,” Flora said, obviously appeasing her. “What will happen next for them?”

There was one solitary, big book on a low table between them. "The title of the tale is The Binding of Autumn," he began, his voice an entrancing whisper just in harmony with the shriek of the fire. “It's the tale of a harvest god who offers a mortal woman a choice: one night of absolute freedom for one year of unimaginable riches for her people." He didn't move as his eyes met hers. "The consent is the matter at hand. It must be freely bestowed, not coerced, and whispered three times into the skin of his throat." “Do you have any idea what sort of story you're going to be reading me tonight?”

Jingle finished last, pulling from her mouth to cum across her tits, white ropes mixing with their saliva on her swollen pink nipples. They collapsed around her, bodies tangled on the rug, the fire's warmth chasing the chill. Santa kissed her forehead, Jingle nuzzled her neck, Frost traced her hip, real men, flawed and fond, in the magic of the night. "Merry Christmas, Dory," Santa murmured, voice thick with emotion. She smiled, spent and throbbing, the fantasy alive in her veins. "Best gift ever."

Where the hell is my nurse and medicine? “Anyway, they made a movie about it. It's not my cookies," she giggled, delighted with herself, "...it's the mountain. Can you imagine them making a movie about my cookies? So I made up a story about a village near K2 that celebrated a person called Christmas Amoeba instead of Santa. He always sneaks into the house secretly – amoebas are microscopic in size, which is why if a person is amoeba it is extremely sneaky – on Christmas Eve and leave presents for everyone. In return, the villagers will leave countless strange shaped cookies for the amoeba to eat. Amoebas come in different shapes, so it makes sense.” She couldn't see my face, so I didn't feel